


From Everyone

by babel



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-15
Updated: 2011-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babel/pseuds/babel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto's birthday brings back memories from past birthdays. Problem is, he's never really liked his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Everyone

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before the second series aired, and I can't vouch that it fits later canon.

  
**(Then)**   


Lisa plays a game whenever she stays the night. She'll wake up before him and go through his entire flat putting little things out of place. Originally she did this because she insisted that he wouldn't notice if a mug was in the wrong row in the cupboard or a picture frame was slightly askew.

She'd been wrong, so now she just does it to drive him crazy.

It used to work, but now it's part of the morning routine. Get up, make the bed, find Lisa in the kitchen sipping instant coffee, kiss her on the cheek, begin making some _real_ coffee. Find the mug that's out of place and rinse it out, even though it's already quite clean, and sit next to Lisa until his coffee is ready.

Except just before he makes it to the sink _this_ morning, he notices a tiny cupcake sitting in the bottom of the mug next to a piece of paper folded into a heart.

He tries to groan, but he can't help but smile.

"You didn't really think you could hide your birthday from me forever, did you?" Lisa asks sweetly.

He carefully plucks out the cupcake, noting that it's actually a miniature muffle with cake icing on it, and sets it on the counter, then takes out the little paper. "I wasn't exactly trying to hide it."

"Of course not. I've known you for two years and never knew when your birthday was, but you're not hiding it at all. So, do I get to have dinner with you and your parents tonight, or are you 'not hiding' _me_ too?" She's turned sideways in her chair now to look at him.

"I was trying to spare you," he says, as he unfolds the paper heart. "But if you want to--"

"Oh, I _am_ having dinner with you and your parents. You may've been confused, because I phrased it as a question."

"Did you write this?" he asked, holding up the poem revealed inside the paper heart.

Lisa smiles into her mug.

  
**(Now)**   


Ianto wakes up to a surge of pleasure. No thoughts -- too disoriented from sleep to think -- just pleasure. He moans once, twice, then his voice is strangled as he comes.

"Good morning, Ianto," Jack says a moment later, resting his chin on Ianto's belly. "Or, maybe I should say happy birthday?"

Ianto stares at the ceiling, shivering with the aftershocks. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that from my files."

"No chance." He kisses Ianto's belly, then crawls up to kiss his neck. "And you're too young to keep your birthday a secret."

"That's a matter of opinion. You didn't tell anyone else, did you?"

"Of course not. And I will continue not to if you'll take a shower with me."

"That's blackmail, sir," Ianto says, grinning.

Jack nips at his jaw. "I'm a bad man."

  
**(Then)**   


The paper hearts are everywhere.

In his work mug, which is unsurprising. In the coffee grinds. With the spoons in the office kitchen. On his office chair. Even in a locked desk drawer, which should've been mostly impossible. By lunch, he's determined that she must have at least three accomplices. He's almost certain her friend Jerome is one of them, because he keeps smirking at Ianto whenever they pass each other.

Which means that at least three people know about his birthday.

It doesn't annoy him as much as it would have before he met Lisa. It doesn't surprise him either, that she wouldn't simply _believe_ he has some reason for not particularly wishing to celebrate his birthday. But it's not such a problem now, and he lines the hearts along the edge of his desk, so that when she comes by his door and smiles in on her way to somewhere else, she can see that he likes what she's done.

The one with the poem inside of it is in s a special place, tucked into the frame of the picture he keeps on his desk. Her and him having a picnic with Jerome and the guy he was seeing then. Jerome took the picture.

Ianto doesn't remember the last time anyone went this far out of their way for him. And there are at least three of them who aren't Lisa.

He knows, looking at the line of hearts on his desk, that he will never want to leave Torchwood.

  
**(Now)**   


Everyone has had their breakfasts, their morning coffee or tea, and are tucked safely into their stations when Ianto goes up to the front desk. It's quiet during the day up here, which was what he preferred for a long time after joining Torchwood Three, but since... Well, for the last two months or so, he's been spending most of his time down in the hub with the rest of them. At first, it was a form of punishment to force himself to be around them. To weather the sideways glances or full on glares, the little bits of conversation cut short when they noticed he was in earshot.

It became something else. But not today. He's not in the mood for any of it today, the good or the bad. Today, he doesn't think he can handle caring for a group of people who would forget him as quickly as they forgot Lisa if he should die or disappear or simply retire.

Torchwood Three staff develop a natural form of retcon after a while. Self-preservation. Practical, really. Ianto wishes he could manage it. But he was with Torchwood One before he came here, and forgetting feels like a crime. He can't help but think of them, all of them, every second of the rest of his life.

It's the least he can do. He lived; they died. So, really, it's the bare minimum he can do, but he's not sure how to do more.

Ianto turns on the computer. It's an archaic thing by all appearances, but it's just as capable of all the computers downstairs aside from Toshiko's laptop. He checks the internal instant messages for the last nine hours first. Owen and Gwen are talking about what a child of Ianto and Tosh would be like (a running gag between them) right now. They always seem to forget he's watching. Natural retcon again.

No reason for him to interrupt. He archives all the completed conversations into a searchable database -- a precaution they didn't start taking until Suzie -- and begins to search the web at large for suspicious activity.

It's not as dull as the others think his job is. Reading little snippets of personal conversations, arguments and confessions and mundane chatter about sports teams and parties. It reminds him what it was like, having a life like that. He didn't have to give up outside life with Torchwood One.

`Jack: Hey, Ianto.`

But if he had, maybe he would've noticed what monumental mistakes they were making.

`Jack: Ianto, are you there?`

Ianto frowns at his computer screen. Jack knows he doesn't particularly like being interrupted before he's gotten a little of his real job done. The one where he has to keep an eye on the world instead of simply playing personal assistant to four very large children.

`Ianto: Yes, sir?  
Jack: We're getting hungry down here. If you could get a snack?`

 _You've only just eaten,_ Ianto mutters to himself.

` Jack: Pretty please?  
Ianto: Of course, sir. What would you like?`

  
**(Then)**   


Lisa appears at his front door early, carrying a big bottle of wine.

"I thought we weren't exchanging store-bought presents anymore, or have you given up the 'aliens taking over world through retail' theory?"

"I was right, wasn't I? There's no telling if we got rid of all the Heukes, they can make themselves look so human," Lisa settles into what she has, at some point, decided is 'her' chair. "And your present isn't precisely store-bought, just store gift-wrapped. You know I'm miserable with sellotape."

Ianto smiles to himself, the image of Lisa just before Christmas with a bow stuck in her hair holding a present with more sellotape than wrapping paper, near tears with frustration until Ianto had said the right thing to make her laugh. He's been the one to wrap presents for her nephews from that day forward.

"I'm afraid we'll have to save the wine for another time. I'm serving non-alcoholic." He notes that Lisa has arched the curious eyebrow, so he adds, "Mum's intolerable enough without being tipsy, but she'll think I'm rude if there's just water."

"We could always have it after they leave tonight. Or before they get here." Lisa bites her lip in that particular way.

"Lisa," Ianto warns.

"What? I'm just trying to relax you a bit. You look like you need it."

Ianto sighs and goes to the adjoining kitchen to put the wine in a discrete hiding place. By the time the cupboard is closed, Lisa has followed him in and is sitting sideways on one of his dining chairs. "Whatever's in the oven smells good."

"Cornish hens and herbs. They should be ready half an hour after my parents arrive, so we'll have to just... sit and chat for a bit."

"Sounds terrifying," Lisa says flatly, watching him as he begins to scrub at the already spotless counter again. "Can I help with anything?"

"Not really. Just. No more flirting."

Lisa's quiet for a long moment. Ianto is beginning to think she's angry, when she's suddenly behind him, with her arms around his waist. "We do have an hour before they get here. And you _really_ do look like someone who could use a little late-afternoon sex."

"Not--" Ianto gasps and Lisa slides her hand between his legs and squeezes. " _Lisa_! They could be here any minute. My father is always early. The only reason they're not here yet is that my mum takes forever to get ready."

"Oh. So. We could get caught?"

Lisa seems far too intrigued by that possibility. Ianto manages to turn around. Which seemed like a good idea at the time, to get her hand off of him, but now that her body is against him, he's not quite sure. "I'm serious, Lisa. Stop."

Her eyes flick down. "I think there's a few parts of you who aren't so serious about my stopping."

"Happily, those aren't the parts who make the decisions."

"Fine." Lisa backs away, affecting her best sad-puppy face.

Ianto looks down and furrows his brow. "I think I need to visit the toilet before my parents arrive. If you'll put away my cleaning supplies?"

"See? I found a way to be helpful." She flashed a smile at him. "Quick question first."

"Yes?"

"You said that the food would be ready thirty minutes after they got here. But if they're going to be early..."

"I plan for them to be early," Ianto says.

Lisa shakes her head, grinning. "You're weird, Ianto. Have I ever told you?"

"Yes," he says tersely, and he heads for the toilet.

The doorbell buzzes as Ianto is washing his hands, and he hears Lisa answer the door. He gets to them just as his Mum goes into her usual talk of how small the flat is and how he needs to "liven it up a bit." Dad is, as always silent. Hands folded. Hiding behind Mum.

She is in the middle of her ramble about the wonders her friend George does with window dressing when Ianto interrupts, "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. If you want to sit?"

"Oh. Thank you, dear." She sits on the couch, eying Lisa who is perched on her chair now. Lisa is eying her back with a forced, but fairly pleasant smile. "So, this is Lisa."

Not a good sign, that it took her that long to vocally acknowledge it. Ianto begins to answer, but it's Lisa who does.

"Yeah, that's me. Unless he's keeping another Lisa around I don't know about."

"Oh, no, I'm sure he's not. My son is very loyal," Mum says rubbing Ianto's arm. Ianto cringes inwardly.

Lisa draws one of her legs up under her. There is something both predatory and defensive about her posture. "So, he's told you about me? I practically had to twist his arm to hear anything about you."

"Well, you haven't known each other very long. You can't expect a life story right off."

"We've been together for a year," Ianto says. His voice seems quiet compared to theirs.

Mum's eyes are on Lisa when she answers. "Yes, dear, but I seem to remember you said something about how she didn't want it to be all that serious for the longest time. Nonsense about an open relationship? I don't know how much that would count as being together."

"Sounds like he tells _you_ a lot, though," Lisa says.

"And I told him," Mum continues. "There's being modern and there's fighting human nature. You can't expect a man to share his woman. That's simple biology."

Lisa's eyebrow shoots up. "Share _his_ woman?"

"It's natural that he should be unhappy. I mean--"

" _Mother_ ," Ianto says sharply. "I never said I was unhappy. I was only trying to explain it to you. And I know you understand it better than you say."

The last words come out too bitter, and Ianto knows as soon as he says it. Even Lisa seems to sense it. There's no way out of it now, so Ianto stands, muttering something about the oven, and escapes to the kitchen.

A childish sort of panic is rising in him, making his head swim. It's stupid. They've all had this argument over and over again through the years, with only the circumstances shifting. He should be over it. He should be mature.

"They're getting along better now." Dad's voice startles him back into action, and he plays at checking how the Cornish hens are doing. "You know how she is, Ianto. She has to test everyone. She'll move on to doing a pop quiz over dinner like always. Lisa's quick on her feet. Your mum'll like her once she adjusts."

"Once mum adjusts to what?" Ianto says, just loud enough to be heard.

Dad doesn't answer. Scrawny little Dad, balding on the top now, developing a belly under his pressed shirt. Ianto got his eyes and his hands and his low voice, but there isn't much else. He used to pretend he had a different dad and no one told him, but the similarities they do have are too obvious.

"I never did... what you think I did, Ianto." Dad wrings his hands together. The same hands. "I worked a lot, probably too much, but I didn't do _that_."

Ianto goes to the cupboard, and begins to take down the plates and glasses. "You've said that before."

"I don't know why you don't believe me."

The plates clack against each other as he sets them out on the table. When the oven buzzer goes off, his dad finishes setting for him.

  
**(Now)**   


Ianto has a tray full of pastries from the bakery two blocks away and is balancing four coffees from the cafe three blocks away. And, except for the dim blue light of the computer screen savers, the hub is dark.

He lets out an irritated sigh as the bars slide away and the lights blink on.

Cake. Presents. Party hats. And confetti drifting down from somewhere above.

"Surprise," Jack says, leaning against the railing and looking smug.

"I'm not sweeping that up," Ianto says as he walks up the steps.

Tosh raises a hand. "I am."

"She wanted to do all the cleaning up for a week," Owen says. "But we don't want you to get rusty, so it's just this once."

"Nice hat, Owen," Ianto says as Gwen helps free him of his tray. He looks down at the cake. The words PENBLWYDD HAPUS IANTO and little mug of coffee are drawn on it in white frosting. The steam coming from the mug is in the shape of a heart.

"Like the cake?" Jack asks, grinning. "We ordered it ourselves."

"But I drew letters, and Jack drew the mug," Gwen adds.

Ianto looks pointedly at Jack. "You said you weren't going to tell anyone."

Jack shrugs. "Owen found it on his own, actually. I was just as surprised as you are."

"So, are we eating the cake yet, or what?" Owen asks, his cheek already stuffed with pastry.

  
**(Then)**   


"You're quiet," Lisa head rests on Ianto's shoulder, and she's languidly running her fingernails through the hair on his chest. His parents have been gone for a few hours now and, technically, it's not his birthday any longer. "Do you wish I hadn't been here today?"

He frowns up at the ceiling. "I'd never wish that."

"Your mum and I got on all right after a bit. She's old fashioned, but--"

"No, she's not."

Lisa stops stroking his chest and props herself up on her elbow. "You don't think the stuff she was saying was, you know, insane?"

"Yes, I do. But she doesn't really think those things. When I told her that you liked to leave your options open in a relationship, her actual response was 'good for her.' She was just pushing your buttons."

Lisa stares at him as if there's horns growing out from his forehead.

"I told you they were crazy."

"You could've called her on it."

Ianto shakes his head. "Trust me, that would only make it worse."

"Your dad seemed all right, though."

"The same way an inoffensive piece of furniture's all right."

Lisa laughs. "You're awful." She rests her head back on his shoulder. Ianto closes his eyes and listens to the sound of her breathing, of the fan on the desk whirring and a light rain against the window.

"So, it doesn't bother you," Lisa says, her voice suddenly quiet and sober. He turns his head to look at her. Her eyes are on him, big and dark. "That I'm not really the settling down type."

"No. It's part of who you are, and I love you."

Lisa smiles, and Ianto kisses her forehead. "Meeting parents, though," she says, her voice teasing. "That seems kind of serious."

Ianto's throat tightens, just a little. "I told you that you might not want to meet them."

"No, I like them." She pushes herself up again, this time sliding on top of him, her legs on either side of him, her breasts against him. "I liked meeting them. I wanted to meet them."

"Oh?" Ianto says, trying to sound nonchalant even though he feels dizzy. He never knew a person could feel dizzy lying still.

She kisses his jaw, then his throat. "And I know we aren't to talk about it, but I haven't seen anyone else in months. I think you're ruining me, Ianto Jones."

"You don't seem ruined to me," he whispers, running his fingers down her side to her hip. "But if you'd like me to stop..."

She chuckles. He can feel it more than hear it. "Don't you dare."

  
**(Now)**   


"Here."

Ianto is sitting on the couch, surveying the hub. Every pane of glass has smudges, every wall has grime, every cranny has mold and mold stains that won't come out.

It's not Torchwood Tower. It will never be Torchwood Tower. But everything has been cleared away by Toshiko, and he has a pile of gag gifts sitting next to him, and his boss is smiling down at him now, handing him a little box.

"You already gave me something," Ianto points out.

"Yes," Jack says seriously. "And as impeccable as you'll look in your singing novelty tie, and I do expect you to wear that to work as often as possible, I thought I'd get you something extra."

Ianto grins and takes the box. "Thank you."

He's expecting another gag until he sees it. Shining amongst the cotton, that perfectly palm-fitting shape.

"Probably not all that surprising, but as we've already established through our extensive research, a stopwatch is a very multi-functional thing. I'm sure you'll find some use for it." Jack sits next to him on the couch, close. "Look at the back."

Ianto leans toward Jack, just slightly, so he can feel Jack's strength, his sturdiness. He plucks the stopwatch out of its box and holds it in his palm, face down.

"Thank you for babysitting all of us," Ianto read, quietly. "And everything else. Yours, CJH."

"A little sappy, but--" Jack's voice is muffled by Ianto's kiss. First a light kiss. Then, Ianto turns himself around until he's half on Jack's lap, curling his fingers into Jack's hair, and he deepens the kiss. When Ianto finally lets him go, Jack finishes breathily, "But true... Like it?"

Ianto chuckles, nuzzling against Jack's neck. "I should be thanking you."

"I can't take the credit. The whole team has actually been planning this party for a week, ever since Owen came across your birthdate."

"But that's what I mean." Ianto shifts his position until he's on Jack, his legs on either side. "You brought me here. You let me stay. And every time I feel like running away... from anything anymore, I think, _I can't let Jack down. I can't disappoint Jack._ And I'm brave."

Jack rests his hands on Ianto's thighs, then slides his hands up to Ianto's hips. "You're already brave."

"I'm brave here." Ianto slides forward slightly. His body is warm and his head swims as if he'd had too much drink. "Only when I'm here."

"Tell me something."

Ianto slips his hands (stopwatch still curled into one palm) under the dark red braces and lets them fall off Jack's shoulders. "Okay."

"What is it about your birthday?"

Ianto stops, his arousal subsiding, falling back like the tide. "I just never saw the point."

Jack arches an eyebrow. He doesn't believe him. He shouldn't believe him, because Ianto is lying. That's the thing about Jack. It's like he knows him without even trying, like they've developed some sort of intimacy when even the sex isn't all that intimate.

He moves off of Jack's lap, it was uncomfortable that way with his trousers still on anyway, and pushes his hand holding the stopwatch into his pocket.

"They were just never very good. Not usually. The only one that was remotely good was the last one with Lisa. And this one."

"I know how much you must miss her."

Ianto looks at Jack. Anyone else, and Ianto would feel the irrational and eternal impulse of the injured human to claim that there's no way someone else could know, no way any pain could be as bad as the pain he feels. But it _is_ Jack, and he knows Jack knows. He doesn't know why, but he knows Jack knows.

"Everyone I knew at Canary Wharf is dead," Ianto whispers. "As long as I had Lisa to focus on, I didn't think about them. Jerome, Karen, Raj, John L and John V, Ms. Hartman. And the survivors are worse. Just acquaintances, so how could I talk to them, when it's _that_ that connects us? And anyway, there weren't that many to begin with, and half of those retconned out. And there've been five suicides." He pauses. "I like to keep track of them, but I couldn't look any of them in the eye."

Jack doesn't say anything. He just puts his arm around Ianto's shoulders and holds him. Ianto can feel his strength again, like a pillar that will never fall. But he will. Everyone falls.

"Now that Lisa's gone, I find myself wishing more than anything that I'm the first to go out of the five of us." Ianto curls down a little, to press his head against Jack's chest and listen to his heart. "I don't know if that's selfish."

"I don't plan on losing any of you anytime soon."

"But you could."

"But I won't." Jack kisses the back of Ianto's neck. "I won't."

They are both quiet, and Ianto hears clocks ticking somewhere, mixing with the slower rhythm of Jack's heart. His own heart feels too swollen and heavy to beat, but he knows it must be.

Ianto whispers, barely putting sound to his breath, "What are you doing with me, Jack?"

"Hm?"

"I..." Ianto lifts himself up to look into Jack's eyes, and suddenly the little spark of courage he had is gone. "Can we go down to your bed tonight?"

Jack smiles with something more than a smile in his eyes, and he kisses him. "I'd like that.

  
**(Then)**   


The first time Ianto sees the hub, the place that Torchwood Three works out of, he actually laughs. It's the first time he's laughed since...

He laughs because it seems incredibly fitting that the hub in Cardiff should look like a dump compared to the one in London. Quite literally a dump, except for the computers and all the glass. Glass that's translucent, nearly opaque, from dirt and... Ianto wouldn't even hazard a guess what else. He hopes they don't expect him to keep all of it clean on his own, because it looks like it'll be a hard enough job keeping this place from growing sentient, world-conquering mold.

Torchwood Tower was always pristine. The walls were still clean and white, the glass still spotless, when he dragged Lisa out through those plastic sheets into the hall. He'd collapsed with her there on a ray of sunshine falling from the window above, and could not imagine how the walls could still be so white. How even the metal... the metal taken from various things around the Torchwood infirmary, the metal that twisted into Lisa's skin.

Even that was shining clean. Even his tears didn't spot the brushed finish.

Still, Ianto's heart leaps a little when, in this new place, he sees the word TORCHWOOD stenciled over the familiar symbol on one of the cleaner panes of glass. He's not sure if it's fear or joy that makes his heart leap.

"So, do you want the job?"

He looks at Jack. Captain Jack Harkness. How many jokes had Ms. Hartman made about his name? And the way he flirted with her? And the way he dressed? He could always tell that she was fond of him regardless, and as soon as he sees Jack in person for the first time, he knows why. And it's not only the cute accent that Ms. Hartman liked to mimic so much.

"Yes," Ianto finds himself looking at Jack's mouth instead of his eyes. Something about his eyes is intimidating. "I couldn't leave Torchwood. And I like being home again."

"It's not exactly the same as it used to be. Can you handle that?"

"Home is never exactly the same when you come back to it."

Jack grins a charming half-grin, and looking at his lips is suddenly intimidating too. "I meant Torchwood."

"So did I," Ianto says.

  
**(Now)**   


They are down in Jack's little room under his office, and Jack's on him. Holding his face and kissing him ravenously, as soon as Ianto is out of his clothes. Jack still has his t-shirt on, but Ianto doesn't really mind. There's something rather sexy about it, Jack naked except for that thin bit of cloth that doesn't quite go down far enough to cover his erection.

It'll end one day, this sort of thing. Ianto will go to his empty flat after work instead of this. Jack will be down here with someone else, and Ianto will go home alone, expected not to care. Or, expected not to give any indication that he cares. Appearance is everything, no matter what Torchwood he works for.

He curls his hand around Jack's cock and simply holds it for a moment. If he focuses on that, the way Jack feels in his hand, all the other thoughts will go away. Jack will never stay with him, but that doesn't matter because the sex is good. Jack will never love him, but that doesn't matter because the sex is good. Jack will break his heart and not even notice, but it doesn't matter because the sex is good.

It's like those first months with Lisa all over again. Pretending the only thing that matters is that the sex is good, because otherwise--

"Ianto?"

Ianto is suddenly very aware that Jack stopped kissing him, and that he's still just holding Jack's cock in his hand. Against his palm, with his thumb resting on the tip, the way he held the stopwatch.

All he can think about are white paper hearts and the warmth of Jack's skin and sellotape and stopwatches and little things that seem like they should mean something, but he can never tell what.

He forces his flirty, confident young man smile as he slides his hand down Jack's cock and back up again. A slow, almost teasing rhythm with just the slightest squeeze on the way up, and Jack seems to have forgotten Ianto's momentary lapse. He's still for a few moments while Ianto does that, his eyes closed and his breath slow, and then he guides Ianto down onto the bed.

They haven't had sex here before. In the office more than once. In the board room. In the lavatory. In the showers. In Ianto's flat. But not here, not in Jack's bed.

He decides not to read anything into that.

Jack hovers over him for a moment, an expression on his face that Ianto isn't familiar with as he looks over Ianto's body. Ianto always feels at a bit of a disadvantage when Jack looks at him naked. He's never been very self-conscious about his looks, but Jack is... Jack. Ianto knows that Jack has seen quite a few bodies, though he is sure Jack hasn't seen half as many as he lets on, and there are things about his own body that Ianto isn't fond of. But Jack seems take it _all_ in. Like he's memorizing it. Like it's all worth memorizing, even the imperfections.

"Can I..." Jack pauses and chuckles, then he leans down to kiss Ianto's jaw. "I'd like to be inside of you. Is that all right?"

Ianto blinks up at him. Jack's never asked before. Ianto never expected Jack to ask.

But he doesn't read anything into that either. There's nothing to read in, so he just nods. Jack chuckles again. Ianto can feel it more than hear it.

The sheets hiss and rustle as Jack slides down Ianto's body and sits up. He pauses to look down at Ianto's body again, then he puts his hands under Ianto's thighs, caressing at first, then pushing them back toward Ianto's chest. Ianto rests his calves on Jack's shoulders as Jack sticks two fingers into his mouth, then into Ianto. The sudden intrusion sends a jolt through Ianto, and Jack smiles as he pulls his fingers back out and glides his middle finger in a little circle on the tip of Ianto's cock, spreading the pre-come around. Ianto reaches for him, and Jack draws closer so that Ianto can pull himself up into a kiss as Jack guides his cock into him.

It forms a rhythm, this. Not Jack or Ianto, but the sex itself forms a rhythm between them. And somewhere in the middle, it seems to make so much sense. Somewhere in the middle, there is a certainty, rhythmic like the ticking of a clock, and it doesn't feel like it will end.

But it will. Like any clock, it will stop, and the certainty will be gone. It'll just be Jack and Ianto and the uneven beat of regular life again.

  
**(Then)**   


It's his fifteenth day with Torchwood Three.

He hasn't seen his parents or any of his old friends, even though he's finished moving into his new flat, and even though he's finished moving his new secret in under the hub. He's not sure how to interact with them anymore. He's not sure what to tell them about Lisa. He was told to say that they simply broke up when he got a new job in Cardiff, but he's not sure if he can.

It's his fifteenth day when he finds it, right on his computer as if it was waiting for him.

There's a program that knows how to pick out suspicious activity on every piece of CCTV footage for the area that Torchwood Three covers. It's part of Ianto's job to go through it and see if possible threats or harmful activities are human or alien in origin.

As a result, Ianto is the only one on the Torchwood Three staff who sees more human crime than alien. He sees it, and does nothing about it because it's not their jurisdiction. This is not something he did with Torchwood One, he only covered suspicious text-based internet activity, so it takes a while to adjust.

But by the fifteenth day, it's not bothering him as much as it used to. By the fifteenth day, it feels entirely mundane to see a robbery, a beating, or a carjacking while he's fielding phone calls for his new boss, so he almost doesn't notice it.

He almost doesn't notice that the car and the street are familiar. He hasn't visited his parents very often since they got the new house six years ago, but he recognizes it after a moment, and he hangs up on the AM he had on the line.

It's his dad's car. Gray, blocky, and immaculately clean. It's his dad's car sitting a few houses down from his parent's house. And it's his dad sitting in it, his head resting on the steering wheel.

Ianto glances at the timestamp. A touch past midnight last night. And his dad's sitting in the car a few houses down from his own house, and there's another car parked in the place where he usually parks. Ianto watches the two places in split screen, the place where his father is waiting, and the front of his parent's house.

It's almost one in the morning and there's a light drizzle starting when someone -- a man, probably, judging by the shoulders, but his face is obscured -- leaves Ianto's parent's home and hurries down to the unfamiliar car. Ianto watches his father watch the car drive away. He watches his father start up his own car, check the clock, and wait a few minutes more before driving up to his house and parking where he usually parks. Where the other car was a few minutes before.

Ianto turns off his monitor. Something inside of him has been shifted off-center, but there is still coffee to make.

  
**(Now)**   


Ianto doesn't remember ever seeing Jack sleep. The thought occurs to him for the first time when he's laying on Jack's arm in Jack's bed. He's not sure why he didn't notice before.

He thinks about asking if Jack ever sleeps, but when he asks, a different question comes out.

"Was it you that marked the footage?"

Jack turns his head slowly to look at Ianto, his eyebrow raised.

"My fifteenth day here. There was a bit of CCTV footage marked for review, but it didn't have any of the things the computer usually picks out as suspicious."

"That was a long time ago," Jack says.

Ianto nods. "But you know what I'm talking about."

Jack looks back up at the ceiling. "The program was new, there were probably still a few bugs."

"Probably." Ianto sighs and shifts his position a little, so that just a bit more of his body is against Jack's. "You asked why I don't like my birthdays."

"Yes, I did."

"If I tell you, will you tell me if you marked the footage?"

Jack smiles. "Sure."

"My dad always forgot. When I was a kid, he always just forgot. Mum covered for him for a while. She'd say the gifts were from both of them, but they weren't. Some years he didn't even bother to come home until late. He worked late often enough, but he'd say he would be there, and he would come late. He's never late. For the longest time, I thought it wasn't work at all. I thought he was having an affair on my mum. And she was covering for him." Ianto paused, frowning to himself. "It sounds a bit stupid, doesn't it?"

"No, not really."

"I was wrong though. Mum has the affairs, not Dad. After I saw... saw a strange man come out of my parent's house past midnight on CCTV when only Mum was home, I phoned and asked. And that's how they've always been. Dad knows."

Jack doesn't say anything. He just kisses Ianto's forehead, and doesn't say anything.

"So, I guess the point is, that he really was just forgetting."

"You think?" Jack asks.

"What else could it be?"

"Well." Jack is gently rubbing Ianto's arm, as if to soothe him. "Maybe. But is he anything like you?'

Ianto frowns, and Jack lets out a little laugh.

"Sorry, not the question to ask a son about his father. But, if he is. I don't think he forgot."

Ianto shifts his weight again, this time away. "Why?"

"If he's like you, he doesn't forget things like that. You said he's never late, so I suspect that's true of him. I bet he's a bore at parties. I bet no one ever laughs at his jokes because his sense of humor is too smart and dry." Jack turns onto his side to face Ianto. "I bet when he loves someone, like he loves your mom and you, he gets scared. Because he's never been all that good with people, and he might do something wrong without knowing it. And he thinks he has to be perfect, because he's made mistakes before, and they've gone really badly. If he makes a mistake again, he thinks he'll lose the people he loves. I think he was just afraid of getting you the wrong present."

While Jack speaks, Ianto finds himself looking at Jack's lips instead of his eyes. He finds himself trying not to shiver, not even slightly, or Jack will feel it.

"And you asked me a question," Jack says.

Ianto whispers, "I know it was you that marked the footage, Jack."

Jack grins, and Ianto shifts his gaze back up to Jack's eyes. "That's not the one I'm talking about. You asked me what I'm doing with you, but you thought I didn't hear it."

"Oh." Ianto's stomach clenches. He wishes he could think of something to say to make Jack believe that he didn't mean it the way it sounded. That he didn't mean it the way he meant it.

"I'm with you because I like you, and you make me happy." Jack cups his hand around Ianto's cheek. "And because I think I make you happy. So, how about this? You're allowed to make mistakes, and I'm allowed to make mistakes. Trust me, I _will_ make mistakes. And we'll forgive each other. How's that?"

Ianto feels dizzy, even though he's laying still. It's a familiar feeling, but not quite the same somehow.

"I can do that," Ianto answers.

"Good," Jack says, and he kisses him.

  
**(Then)**   


Ianto spends more time in the store room with Lisa than at his own flat. He keeps pictures there, so that he can look at them and remember what they were like, what he's keeping her alive for despite all the pain she's in. He talks to her, even though she can't hear him. He reads to her and sings to her. He can't carry a note to save his life, but he sings to her because she used to laugh when he sang to her.

But on this night, his fifteenth night with Torchwood Three, he unfolds the little paper heart with the poem inside and reads that to her. It's not perfect. Some of the rhymes are stretches, and the rhythm isn't perfect, but it sounds like her. Her words in his voice.

And at the bottom, in Lisa's blocky, all-caps lettering it says: _May all your birthdays be happy. Love, Lisa._

When he read it the first time, he believed that they could be.

  
**(Now)**   


It's not until he's drifting to sleep with Jack's arms around him, a few hours after his birthday technically ended, that he starts to believe again.


End file.
